


how can your two eyes be as empty as they look

by burying_songs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-25
Updated: 2011-09-25
Packaged: 2017-10-24 00:49:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burying_songs/pseuds/burying_songs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda for 6x07.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how can your two eyes be as empty as they look

>   
> _Black hole, black hole  
>  How can your two eyes be as empty as they look?  
> \---Josh Ritter, "Rattlin' Locks"_   
> 

 

Sam is annoyed.

Rather, Sam would be annoyed if emotional irritations touched him these days. Since Crowley pulled him—well, part of him—from the pit, he has no problem recognizing where and when he should be feeling. He knows because inside he’s still Sam Winchester, a walking catalogue of memory. He’s got the data but no way of implementing it, only knows that he’s _not right_ by the way Dean looks at him.

It was one of the reasons Sam avoided his old life for so long. He knew something was wrong—really, deeply wrong—the moment he stood outside Lisa’s house, watching through the window as Dean played happy family, and feeling…nothing. No relief, no jealousy, just an echoing hollow and the knowledge that he was not needed. For a long time he chose not to question it, reveled in the clarity of his newly monochrome world. He only reentered the society of hunters when his path crossed Samuel’s purely by accident. It was Samuel who suggested he get in touch with Dean, but Sam decided to start small.

Strangers can sense that there’s something off, and he’ll admit that his witness interviewing skills are not what they used to be, but their hesitation is miles away from the wariness he feels from those who’ve known him. Bobby had been the logical first stop once he was ready to concede that there was nothing to learn about his resurrection. The other hunter watches him, Sam knows this. He’s not entirely trusted, not by anyone, and that doesn’t bother him. Nothing does, these days.

If it were possible, Sam would choose to go it alone. He misses the freedom, has no patience for Samuel’s cautions or Dean’s hoops and sense of betrayal. Hunting with others is messy business, especially when his brother is so close to going off the rails. This is why, when he really thinks about it, Sam doesn’t consider this new deal with Crowley as necessarily a bad thing. Foot patrolling for King Demon is not ideal, but Sam will be killing evil things either way and it’s good for Dean to have a mission. Sam may not care one way or the other about the shining, bright light of himself stuck in Lucifer’s cage, but Dean’s desperate for it. His brother’s scared of him now, Sam notes with his now-familiar air of detachment. He doesn’t feel it, but knows it just the same; Dean’s typical response to anything that scares him is to beat the shit out of it and Sam’s recently broken face supports this theory.

Sam wants his soul back, not for himself, but because it will move Dean back into orbit, return him to the level of proficiency that Sam remembers. Working with this compromised Dean is frustrating because Sam expects too much. So he waits the long hours of the night for Dean to drink himself to sleep so that he is free to slip from the room, knife in hand and gun tucked into the waist band of his jeans. Prowling the streets or countryside after dark sometimes yields nothing more than other nocturnal creatures, folks staggering home at the start of a bender or heading out on swing shift. But sometimes Sam gets lucky. He takes out a nest of ghouls in Illinois, a werewolf in Dayton. The hunts don’t mean anything, just another dead thing, another tally on the board against evil.

If Dean’s aware of his nightly field trips, he never says anything. Even if he disapproves—which Sam knows he will—there’s nothing he can do about it. Sam’s tired of playing around; they’re going to hunt these big daddy monsters of Crowley’s and if Dean wants to drive the bus that’s fine, but it doesn’t mean that Sam’s just going to sit quiet and hang tight.

He’s got work to do.


End file.
